


Summer Storm

by ReneeLaRoux



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Dark, Depression, Hurt Merlin, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 05:41:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeLaRoux/pseuds/ReneeLaRoux
Summary: The truth was he hadn’t noticed when the darkness began to take over. It just drifted in like a cloud on the wind, so slowly at first it didn’t even seem to be moving.





	Summer Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note: this is dark. I suffer from depression and I wrote this after one particularly bad episode, just hoping to put into words how it felt for me. It's intended to be just a one-shot, but I suppose if enough people wanted it, I could expand it a bit.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: depression, dark thoughts, suicidal thoughts

    The sun rose with the dawn, as it did every morning. It crept slowly at first, just peeking into Merlin’s window. It wouldn’t be long before it flung itself right in, streams of golden light pouring into the tiny room. The young warlock would groan and squeeze his eyes shut, fighting to hold on to the last tendrils of sleep. When the sun was just too persistent to ignore, Merlin would sigh and roll onto his back, torn as he was from slumber.    


    He hadn’t been sleeping well as of late. In fact, most nights he tossed and turned until the wee hours of the morning, when he would finally doze until he was awakened by the rising sun. When he did sleep, it was fitful - most nights he was plagued by nightmares, fueled by so many days of fighting monsters and saving lives and watching friends die. Most mornings he would wake up to find his lungs heaving or his eyes damp with tears. Those days were the hardest. 

    Climbing out of bed was becoming nearly impossible, and not just because his body ached. He was losing the will to move from his mattress with each passing day. He often fantasized about lying in bed until he just disappeared into the threadbare blanket, until he just ceased to exist all together. Wouldn’t that just be so much easier?

    So much easier than pulling his battle-worn, chore-beaten body out of bed, and forcing it down the stairs to choke down porridge Gaius had burnt again. So much easier than reporting for duty for a king who yelled at him and ruffled his hair in the same breath, who asked for so much yet noticed so little, who Merlin had loved with every fiber of his being for  _ so long _ . So much easier than playing the pack-mule, being teased by knights, getting injured by bandits, so much easier than watching each and everyone of his friends find happiness and success and respect…

    Pulling his battle-worn, chore-beaten body out of bed, Merlin tried to remember the last time he had felt truly happy. Before Uther died? Before Arthur and Gwen fell in love? Before he stepped foot out of Ealdor? He tried and failed to remember. He tried and failed a lot these days.

    So he forced himself down the stairs. He decided that he just couldn’t choke down burnt porridge again, that the hunger pangs he would inevitably feel later were preferable to glue in his stomach. He'd skipped a lot of meals lately, what was one more? With a sigh he headed out to begin another day of work. Each step was a battle, his feet feeling like lead on the cobblestone. When had he come to dread tending to his king? When had he come to loathe his chores, instead of simply hating them?  _ When? _

    The truth was he hadn’t noticed when the darkness began to take over. It just drifted in like a cloud on the wind, so slowly at first it didn’t even seem to be moving. It just settled over him, until all of his thoughts had turned to blackness. Until every smile was plastered on. Until he  _ hurt _ ,  _ gods,  _ everywhere and in every way. The pain was constant, an ache in his chest and his stomach and his eyes. At any given moment, he was sure there were tears ready and willing to well up. It was a strange thing, to be so sad and so angry and so lonely and so beaten down, and yet so empty and numb. He felt too much and he couldn’t feel enough. 

    The king’s chambers were devoid of the king when he arrived, Arthur’s sleep clothes in a pile on the bed. Glancing about, Merlin spotted a young lady piling dishes onto a tray.

    “Where’s Arthur?” Merlin asked suddenly. She startled when she noticed him staring at her.

    “His Highness left on a hunting trip about an hour ago,” the girl informed him, blushing. 

    “Alone?” 

    “Four knights and a manservant went with him,” she turned to pick up the tray. “His Highness said you were to have the day off.”

    “Huh...thanks,” Merlin nodded once and headed back for the door. 

    Why hadn’t Arthur said anything the night before, when Merlin was tending to him? Why hadn’t Gwaine or Percival said anything when he ran into them on his way home? Why hadn’t he been invited? He hated hunting trips, but that never stopped Arthur from demanding he tag along. And what other manservant had he taken? He bet it was that George, that perfect, pompous arse who had always tried to show him up. 

    So Arthur would rather have stuffy George, and not faithful Merlin, pitch his tent and start his fire and cook his food. He would rather have a total stranger tend to his needs than his loyal Merlin, who had been by his side through every possible situation over the years. And had the knights even tried to change Arthur’s mind? Were they in on it too? Were they tired of poor, weak little Merlin causing a mess and slowing them down?

    Merlin’s mind was whirling, the storm of the century confined in his brain. For all his mind had lacked in energy and feeling just minutes ago, it now instantly made up for in blinding anger. He fumed as he stomped all the way home, intent on venting his frustration to Gaius. Alas, when he slammed the door of the physician’s quarters open, the chamber was empty. 

    “GAIUS!” Merlin shouted. Silence answered. In a moment of rage he had felt before but had never acted on, he grabbed the nearest object and hurled it across the room. The ceramic pot shattered against the wall, the plant within dashed to pieces. The shelf it had collided with fell to the floor and scattered books and jars everywhere. Without a second glance he spun on his heels and raced out again. He hurried across the courtyard, ignoring anyone in his path. Above him, a storm was brewing in the summer sky. 

    His feet carried him away from the citadel. Half-blind with tears, he stumbled into the forest, wanting to get as far away from his life as he could. He ignored the branches that sliced into his hands and face, ignored the deer that he frightened away, ignored the darkening sky above him. He ran until his lungs burned, begging him to slow down. When he reached a small clearing some three miles away from home, he finally collapsed. The sky above was nearly black, swirling with clouds and wind and the crack of distant thunder. He didn’t care. His mind was still racing, the ugly thoughts and lies and pain drowning out everything else. He could no longer contain the tears, and his thin body shuddered under the weight of his sobs. The clouds above opened and unleashed upon upon Camelot a torrential downpour. It was a perfect summer storm.

    He didn’t know when his tears ran dry, or when the stuttering hiccups faded away. He didn’t know when the rain stopped, leaving behind the blackened sky. He didn’t know where he was, or the time of day. The world moved on around him. He could not move.

    He did not fall asleep, though exhaustion weighed heavy upon him. He just lay in that clearing, soaked to the skin, body curled into a fetal position. He did not flinch at the cold or the wet, or the wind that tickled his skin. He did not hear the chirping of birds. He did not see the forest before him. For the first time in a very, very long time, he  _ felt _ . He felt the weight of his ever present destiny, and of the man he served without a second thought. He felt the pressure to keep Arthur alive. He felt the overwhelming guilt of failing Morgana, of turning her away and forcing her into the evil role she now played in their lives. He felt the inescapable loneliness he ached with every time he saw Arthur besotted with Gwen, or the knights chumming it up together. He felt the loss of those who had been dear to him, of Lancelot and Balinor and Freya. He felt the impossible burden of the power he welded, and the life he could never live because of it. He felt each life he had ever taken. Each moment he had desperately wanted to share his secret, to be  _ known _ to someone else, to be accepted and loved for who he was.

    Nobody cared about Merlin. He knew that. He had always known that. Nobody wanted him back home, he was too strange, too dangerous. His mother didn’t know what to do with him, and he made her life too difficult. Gaius was always exasperated with him. Arthur had only ever tolerated him because he needed him. Gwen had pitied him, as had Lancelot. Gwaine just needed someone to talk to. No one ever really stopped to ask him if he was okay, if he needed anything, if he wanted to talk about something. They saw the fake smiles and the winces and the dark shadows under his eyes. They saw the wounds and broken bones and emaciated body. They saw and they just moved on, because they just didn’t care. No one did.

    And why should they? He was just a sorcerer, after all. He was just a monster. 

    He highly doubted anyone would even care of he died. They would probably be relieved. Finally, the idiot was gone for good. Finally, we can eat in peace. Finally, no more scared little boy to ruin our hunts. Finally...no more Merlin.

    Merlin had not moved an inch. He couldn’t. Not this time. He had used up the last of his willpower, and he was done fighting. He was done pretending. And he had no plans to ever move again as long as he lived, which hopefully wouldn’t be too much longer.


End file.
